"I eat mountains for breakfast," he deadpanned, drawing a laugh from both of us.
I set about laying out our makeshift meal. I'd made food for Logan before, but
this was the first time I'd really put on my cheffing hat and cooked for him. I'd spent the better part of two days in the kitchen; Greek salad, Moroccan cous cous with chickpeas and raisins, chili garlic shrimp, lemon chicken — it was a feast fit for a king. Keeping food hot under those circumstances was not an option, so everything was served cold, but Logan didn't seem to mind.
"You're some kind of food witch," he said, shoveling a spoonful of cous cous into his mouth.
"It's the eye of newt that does it. Really brings out the flavor."
He grinned. "Hell, if this is what eye of newt tastes like, sign me up. Seriously, I may be forced to kidnap you and chain you up in my kitchen."
"So I can fry chicken breast three times a day?"
"Fuck the chicken breast. I've seen the light!"
"What about 'the diet,'" I said, making air quotes. "Won't Tony kick up a fuss?"
"We'll bribe him with some of these shrimp. Nobody could say no to these bad boys. He might even smile, for once."
That was a hilarious image. I struggled to imagine anyone bribing Tony with anything. The man was harder than an oak tree.
"Well, I'm glad you like it. I'll cook a proper meal for you at home some time, you know, with food that actually comes out hot."
"This is most definitely a proper meal, but still, I'm holding you to that," he replied, spearing another piece of chicken on his fork and attacking it. "You know, with food like this, you could be running your own restaurant."
"That's the dream," I replied, feeling a twinge of sadness.
"So what's stopping you?"
"Oh, I don't know, how about everything? You need money and connections and experience, none of which I have. I'm not even a working chef, right now."
"So maybe it's time to get back in the game? In the least sexist way possible, this meal basically convinces me that you belong in the kitchen."
I punched him in the shoulder, feigning mock offense. "How dare you?"
"Oh don't get all feminazi on me. You know it's true. I've been watching you watch me eat. You get some kind of perverse joy out of pleasuring people's taste buds."
"What can I say? I give good food." I wished I could just deflect the topic with jokes, but Logan continued to stare while the question hung in the air. "I've thought about going back to it, but a few months ago, when I tried, nowhere was hiring."
"So maybe it's time to start trying again? You're clearly passionate about this stuff. It'd be a crime to let that go to waste."
"I know. You're right," I replied, but I didn't sound convinced. The idea of getting back into that life was certainly tempting, but also intimidating. The pace of it, the long hours, the stress; I didn't know if I could cope. Things right now were simple, comfortable. The bar was easy work and Logan and Joy were constant fixtures. I felt better than I had at any time since Tom died, but that didn't mean I was in the clear. Things could spiral out of control again in the blink of an eye.
Again, Logan displayed an uncanny ability to read me. "Hey. You'd be fine. You've been doing really well."
"I know," I said again, "it's just a little scary. Things are good right now, and if I wind up back in a restaurant, a lot of stuff is going to change. My schedule would be crazy, for one thing. I don't know when we'd get the time to see each other. And I wouldn't want to leave Charlie in the lurch like that."
"Now you're just making excuses. Charlie would be fine, and we'd find time for one another. I'll do what I have to do. I'm not saying it has to be right now, just think about it, alright?"
I nodded. "I will."
We didn't speak for a few minutes besides the odd mumble of approval. Logan was right; just watching him enjoy the fruits of my labor brought me a huge amount of satisfaction. Food made me happy in a way few other things did. Maybe it really was time.
Gazing out at the dessert, I began to understand why he liked it here so much. It gave off this amazing sense of peace. Nothing moved in that space. It was just the world, pure and open before us. If I ignored the hum of the city to our backs, it was easy to imagine that we were the last people on the planet. You'd think that would be a scary thought, but it wasn't. A simple life with him was the most perfect thing I could imagine.
"Tell me about your restaurant," he said, as he began loading up his plate for round three.
"What?"